


You could be a Hero

by LaurelSilver



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: HRE is Germany, Kidnapping, M/M, Some Swearing, broken fourth wall, inpermanent character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3992659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelSilver/pseuds/LaurelSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Twas a quiet day in Hetaland, until the evil Kapitan Kommunism kidnaps the fair Prince Arthur and his animal-loving man servant! It's up to Princes Alfred and Matthew to rescue him, with the help of a Scottish knight, a pair of German drunkards and a pretty Italian barmaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You could be a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> CHARACTERS:  
> (Prince) Arthur 'England' Kirkland  
> Jett 'Australia' Kirkland  
> Ivan 'Russia' Braginski (Kapitan Kommunism)  
> (Prince) Alfred Freedom 'America' Jones  
> (Prince) Matthew Willam 'Canada' Jones  
> (Lord) Alistair 'Scotland' Kirkland  
> (Mister) Ludwig 'Germany' Bielschmidt  
> (Mister) Gilbert 'Prussia' Wellschmidt  
> Soren 'Denmark' Kohler  
> Berwald 'Sweden' Oxerstierna  
> Batukhan 'Mongolia' Ulan  
> Katyusha 'Ukraine' Braginskya  
> Elizabeta 'Hungary' Herdervary  
> Roderich 'Austria' Edelstein  
> Feli 'Veneziano' Vargas  
> (Mafioso) Lovino 'Romano' Vargas  
> Grandpa Rome Vargas  
> (Mister) Francis 'France Bonnefoi  
> Roman 'Holy Roman Empire' Wellschmidt  
> (Shishou) Kiku 'Japan' Honda

'Twas a quiet day in Hetaland. The butterflies were flying, the birds were singing, the other animals were doing whatever the fuck they do, and all was well and wonderful. Until;

"Kol-kol-kol-kol-kol!" A woollen purple tendril wraps itself tightly around the waists of the lovely Prince Arthur Kirkland and his animal-loving servant Jett, hoisting them high into the air and dragging them out of the window of their quaint country cottage. Their captor, who is, as you will have guessed by the 'woollen purple tendril' and the kol-kol-kol-ing, the evil Kapitan Kommunism, kol-kol-kols evilly, running his cold, clammy claws down the frightened Lord's face with a his of "My precious-s-s-s, da."

Kapitan Kommunism takes the two brick-shitting men back to his castle, entrapping the Lord in a coffin of ice and setting the servant to work cleaning his home, cooking his food, tending to his sunflowers and heeding to the childish villain's every beck and call. And there aren't even any animals for Jett to play with.

It is not long before the news of this horrible kidnapping reaches the Kingdom of America (and Canada), the servants scuttling to tell the residing princes.

The eldest prince, canonically confirmed to be the best character in the existence of everything because 'Murica, leaps heroically to his feet, exclaiming; "I, Prince Alfred Freedom Jones, will rescue this fair man and his sidekick, and you, Prince Mattie Jones, will be my sidekick!"

"It's Prince Matthew Williams, eh!" the loyal sidekick corrects him.

"But you've gotta be Matthew William Jones if we're gonna be brothers!"

"Fine! Just remember that's my name, okay, not 'Mattie' or anything else; Matthew, eh."

And with that, Princes Alfred and Matthew call upon their trusty steeds, Apollo and Dodge respectively, and ride speedily across the land of Pond connecting the Kingdom of America (and Canada) to the Isle of Britain.

"Prince Alfred! Prince Matta!" a bellowing voice calls. It is the voice of Lord Alistair, army general of the Isle of Britain, "A terrible thing has befallen our land!"

"We have heard of the terrible thing, o' fire-scalped knight!" Prince Alfred answers, "I, Prince Alfred Freedom Jones of the Kingdom of America, together with my sidekick, Prince Matthew William Jones of-"

"I already who y'are," Lord Alistair interrupts, "Jest get to yer point."

"We're gonna rescue Arthur and Jett, eh," Prince Matthew puts simply. "And my name's Matthew, not Matta, eh."

"Brave Princes, I fear that the evil Kapitan Kommunism has taken our Prince and his man-servant across Europa to the icy lands of Soviet."

"Then journey across Europa, we shall!" Prince Alfred exclaims.

"But it's dangerous to go alone!" Lord Alistair cries, "Europa is full of danger: Vikings, Pirates, Mafiosos, Spartans, Romans, Ottomons, Rebels, the Swiss -"

"It may be dangerous!"Prince Alfred interrupts, "But it is danger we must face to save the stolen Prince."

"But how are yer gonna navigate? Either of you ever been through Europa?"

The brave princes exchange a look, and shake their heads sheepishly.

"Then take someone with you. Find Ludwig Bielschmidt. He will guide you through Europa.

"And where will we find this man, eh?" Prince Matthew asks.

"He's prob'ly down' pub wi' a beer."

"Thank you, o' skirted knight!" Prince Alfred hollers, tugging Apollo's reins.

And to the tune of Lord Alistair bellowing "It's a foo-king kilt, ye Yankee bastard!", Prince Alfred and Prince Matthew set off down the road, where the Fallen Empire pub makes itself a comfortable living.

Wasting no time, Prince Alfred leaps down from Apollo and barges into the pub, shouting "I am looking for a Ludwig Bielschmidt to accompany me on a super heroic quest!" over the noise.

The pub falls silent, the gazes of the drunkards settling first on Prince Alfred, then turning to stare at a blond man in the corner. The blond man remains staring at the prince, then at the prince's sidekick as he takes to his brother's side, downs the rest of his beer, which had resided in a strangely boot-shaped glass, and silently beckons for the princes to join him at his table. A second man, with hair as white as snow, eyes as red as blood, and clothes as black as night, leans drunkenly against the blond, mumbling a song in a guttural language.

"What is this quest of yours?" Ludwig asks plainly as they sit down.

"We need your help navigating across Europa, eh," Prince Matthew answers.

"And why would I want to do that? I could just stay here, drinking beer happily."

"Because it makes you look like a drunkard, eh."

"I suppose that's true," Ludwig sighs, "What do you need to travel across Europa for?"

"To rescue the lovely Prince Arthur," Prince Alfred hollers,

"And Jett," Prince Matthew reminds him.

"Why would I want to rescue Arthur Kirkland?" Ludwig interrupts.

"I'll tell you why!" his albino companion yells suddenly, flailing about drunkenly, "Because he's an awesome fuck."

"I haven't had sex with him," Ludwig deadpans, "I have fought him. Three times. Twice upon the battle field, once upon the football field. Thrice we fought, thrice I was defeated, but I am unable to count the amount of times he has rubbed his victories in my face. Whenever we meet, he sings; "One World Cup and Two World Wars, do-dah, do-dah," with that evil smirk of his-"

"Is that why you're here, eh?" Prince Matthew uncharacteristically interrupts, "Because a prince beat you at a game of soccer, eh?"

"It is called football!" Ludwig snaps, "And no, that is not the only reason. But I admit it is one of them."

"Then this is your opportunity to one-up him!" Prince Alfred says, "He can no longer belittle you if you are among the team who rescue him from evil."

"You are right! Prince Alfred, Prince Matthaus; I will accompany you upon your quest!"

"It's Matthew, eh!"

Ludwig pauses for a second, the younger prince glowering at him. "Wait, where are we going?"

"To the icy lands of Soviet to face the evil Kapitan Kommunism-"

"Kapitan Kommunism?" the albino interrupts, "That sounds familiar..."

"He's tall, eh," Prince Matthew describes him, "Big nose, scarf-"

"White hair like mine, purple eyes like yours- holy shit, he could be our love child," the albino interrupts both the prince and himself, "But as awesome as having babies with you, Birdie, would be, our child would be nowhere near as creepy, and his smile would be genuine."

"My name is Matthew, eh!" Prince Matthew shouts, "And I am male! I will not be having babies with anyone!"

"You suit Birdie," the albino shrugs, "And you can call be Gilbert Wellschmidt."

"I will call you A Fucking Hoser as long as you call me Birdie, eh."

"You're cute, so you can call me whatever you like~"

"How do you know Kapitan Kommunism?" Prince Alfred interrupts the conversation before Prince Matthew goes Manada; it is far too soon for Prince Matthew to go Manada.

"I knew him when we were small," Gilbert slurs, holding up a finger and a thumb to show just how small they both had been, "But he wasn't called Kapitan Kommunism back then; he was called Ivan Braginski. And he was fucking pathetic. Throw an acorn at him and he starts crying, even if it didn't hit him! Me and Søren and Berwald and Batukhan used to pick on him all the time. And one day we had him cornered and he was freaking out and then he lifted his shirt up and showed us his chest, and we were like, "What the fuck are you doing?" and he was like, "I am showing you my boobs, da," and Søren was like, "But you don't have boobs!" and I was like, "Why the fuck woud you want to show us your boobs?" and Ivan was like, "Big Sister Katyusha said that it is a magic spell that solves all your problems, da," and Søren was like, "Well, it does solve some problems," and I was like, "Your sister's weird, you don't just go round flashing your boobs at people," and Ivan was like "Don't be mean to my sister! You're just jealous you have literally no females in your lives because for some reason basically all of us are male," but the jokes on him because it turned out that my basically best friend was a girl who thought she was a boy, but she's a girl now and I wanted to marry her because I love her and her strength and her determination and her ability to still look pretty as she does it, not that the prettiness overly matters, but she fucked off and married this poncy musician so fuck her and fuck him! But ja, Ivan said all that shit, and Søren was like, "What the fuck?" and I was like, "What the fuck?" and Ivan was just stood there with his shirt basically over his head, and Berwald and Batukhan just sort of stood there like the strong, silent weirdoes they are."

After a few second of silence, Prince Alfred deadpanns; "All I understood of that was that 'Ivan' doesn't have boobs."

"He used to bully Kapitan Kommunism, whose real name is Ivan Braginski, eh," Prince Matthew summarises.

"Heh, Birdie gets me," Gilbert mumbles, clapping the Prince on the shoulder.

"He also seems to be strung up over his childhood friend marrying a musician over him, eh."

"I am not strung up over Elizabeta! I just strongly believe that she deserves better than that poncy, pathtic Roderich."

"And better is a drunkard in a pub, eh?"

Gilbert sits upright, sobering up instantly, "Holy shit, you've got a point there Birdie. I gotta get off my awesomely drunk ass and become the man I believe Elizabeta deserves!"

"Doesn't mean she's automatically going to be with you," Prince Alfred points out.

"Nein, but it is a great motivator! Danke to the both of you! Bruder, get this prince and this Birdie to Soviet and kick unawesome commie ass; I've got some working out to do! And probably clothes to wash because I reek of beer!"

And with a "kes-es-es-es!" the albino flits from the pub, throwing money at the confused bartender as he goes.

Ludwig calmly steals the albino's forgotten beer and downs it in one gulp. "Let's go."

The journey is long and arduous, with danger at every turn ranging from Vikings chasing them to the Swiss open firing at them. In Italia, the trio decide to stop for a rest, seeking shelter in the Circle Inn.

As they walk in they are greeted by the smell of good, warm food. A green-clad serving-girl skips up to them happily, and Ludwig turns bright red as she coos over the trio, dragging them to sit down and serving them fresh pasta.

The girl, Feli, babbles on as they eat, neither prince really listening to her but Ludwig being completely absorbed. Prince Matthew, with his Romance Radar, instantly notices that Ludwig was beginning to fall in love with the bubbly serving-girl. Price Alfred remains oblivious to it.

Feli spends hours describing her childhood to Ludwig, telling him all about her brother, “He’s really grumpy all the time. He’s a brilliant Mafioso, but I think it’s really scary when he comes home covered in blood, and then I get scared that one of his enemies might have followed him home, ve!”, her grandfather, “He was so popular with the pretty ladies, ve!”, and her first love, a, now dead, boy named Roman, “It was Mister Francis and Mister Gilbert who told me he was dead, but I never actually saw the body, ve. Come to think of it, Mister Ludwig, he actually looked a little bit like you, ve!”, and she eventually got around to asking him; “Ve, Mister Ludwig, what was your childhood like?”

“I don’t actually know,” Ludwig admits with a cough, “I don’t remember much of it. My earliest memory is of mein Bruder fretting over me while I sat in a hospital bed, and his friend Francis telling me I’d almost died. Although, I sometimes get visions of this pretty little girl in a white robe. But I’m not sure if that’s a memory or just a dream.”

“Ehi, that’s awful, Mister Ludwig!” Feli coos.

“Right, well, uh, we should be going!” Prince Alfred says boldly, standing, “I think we’ve rested enough. We thank you kindly for your hospitality, Feli, but we are on a super heroic quest, so-”

“No!” Feli cries, “You can’t leave! I am all alone here, and so very afraid of the dangers of the world that could taint my feminine innocence!”

“We can send a message to our kingdom, and one of our soldiers can be sent here to protect; a payment for your hospitality,” Alfred says, “I can send for Honda-shishou; he’s a wonderful swordsman, and quiet, polite; he’ll happily listen to your stories.”

“Can’t Mister Ludwig stay?” Feli pouts, wrapping her arms around Ludwig, and Ludwig blushes crimson.

“Unfortunately, we need Ludwig to guide us across Europa, eh,” Prince Matthew explains.

“But Prince Matteo, you don’t understand how very lonely it can get, ve! I have only my brother, and he is rarely here, ve! I need someone to look after me, and to love me!”

“Wait, what, love?” Prince Alfred stammers, “He’s only been here a few hours! You’re not in love; you’re horny!”

“Who cares what it is?” Feli snaps, “I’m Italian, I’m pretty, and I want sex! You stupid men cannot defy me!”

“What if we’re gay?” Prince Alfred asks.

“Que?”

“Well, we are rescuing a prince, I mean, that kind of insinuates that this is a homosexual love story, so…”

“You can’t all be homosexuals!”

“Well, this is Hetalia, eh. There’s not a lot of girls in this series. In this story, there’s been, like four.”

“I had it at three,” Prince Alfred frowns.

“Gilbert’s childhood love, Ivan’s sister, the other girl from Gilbert’s story, y’know the strong, silent, weirdo one?, and Feli. That makes four, eh,” Prince Matthew counts.

“That would actually still make three,” Feli admits. As our trio of adventurers watch, Feli reaches up to her neck, removing the ribbon choker that sits there to reveal a prominent lump. “My mother had always wanted a little girl, so she dressed me up. I thought I was girl, and acted like one, then just couldn’t come to terms with it when I found out I was a boy, ve. I tried to be a boy, but I just couldn’t do it, it just didn’t feel right. So I stayed a girl, ve.”

Ludwig pulls himself away from Feli, a frown pulling his features down. “As Prince Alfred said, we really should be going.”

“No! Please don’t leave me!” Feli begs, tears forming in her eyes, “I don’t want to lose anyone else!”

But Ludwig just marches out of the door, followed by Prince Matthew trying to console him. Prince Alfred leaves a number of gold coins on the counter, gives the sobbing girl a quick, yet warm and consoling, hug, before he scurries off after his brother and guide.

“I thought you were falling in love with Feli,” Prince Matthew says as they begin to ride, Dodge easily keeping up with Ludwig’s horse, Volkswagen.

“But Feli is a man!” Ludwig snaps, “and that is wrong!”

“You do realise this story features a prince rescuing a prince, eh,” Prince Matthew explains, “It’s already pretty gay; you can’t be homophobic when you’re dealing with Hetalians, eh.”

“Well, no, but…” Ludwig sighs, “I’m just struggling to come to terms with it. She really did remind me of the girl from my maybe-dream-maybe-memory, and I kind of hoped she could help me figure out my past.”

“She still could be, if she used to think she was a girl, eh!”

“Yeah and besides; every fairy story needs an unnecessary love arc!” Prince Alfred adds.

“Oh, look; we’ve reached Soviet.” Ludwig deadpans.

And sure enough, Soviet-ho; the icy land stretches before them, with snow falling thick and fast over the equally thick blankets already covering the dead ground. A lone castle stands, old and spectacular, with dauntingly high walls, and iron gates, that are conveniently standing open because I can’t be bothered to drag this on anymore.

The horses trot in, and are left in the courtyard as our trio of adventurers make their way inside. It is warmer inside, and multiple vases of sunflowers are placed down every corridor, failing to splatters of crimson staining the uncovered stone walls. There are many displays of weaponry and jewels and trophies; displays of power and wealth and dominance. There is a sound of a music box playing, and the low drone of a broken man’s mournful humming, and the trio follow this noise cautiously.

“G’day mates!” the yell of a particularly Australian man breaks through the heroes’ attempt to sneak up on their villain, “The Kapitain didn’t tell me he was expecting visitors; I’d have come to greet you!”

“The Kapitain didn’t tell you he was expecting visitors, because the Kapitain wasn’t expecting visitors,” a deep, yet childish, voice answers the servant. “Prince Matvei, Prince Fredka, how nice of you visit me, da.”

Kapitain Kommunism emerges from a room, the room from which the music, which has now stopped, had been emitting from. As Gilbert had described, he is tall, with hair as white as Gilbert’s and eyes as purple as Matthew’s. What Gilbert had failed to mention, however, is the creepy-ass stare. The stare, colder than the ice outside, that seems to pierce through the skin, through the heart, through the soul, and turns any man to fearful stone. The stare that is the reason there should be more females in Hetalia, because anything a man can’t do, a woman can. Stereotypically. But come on, how men do you know who can take down a whole army with a frying pan?

It is Ludwig, surprisingly, who breaks the silence; “So… you're the guy who showed my brother his boobs?”

Jet frowns, confused; “But the Kapitain doesn’t have any boobs.”

“I didn’t know that!” the Kapitain growls, raising a pipe above his head, swinging it down, and clobbering Ludwig on the head, knocking the beer-loving man out cold.

The fight is long. Jett hides behind vases, grabbing random objects to throw at the Kapitan, and being disappointed when they don’t boomerang back to him, narrowing down his choice of weapons until he completely runs out. Prince Matthew smacks the Kapitain with his hockey stick, body-checking him a few times until the Kapitain manages to pin him down by sitting on him, freezing him to the floor. And now, the brave, courageous, heroic Prince Alfred Freedom Jones of the Kingdom of America (and something else) is left standing.

Prince Alfred takes out his gun, aims, and shoots once. The bullet lands straight between Ivan’s eyes, and the Kapitain falls down, dead. His Gilbert-white hair turns red as it soaks in his own blood, and his Matthew-purple eyes close.

Prince Alfred steps over the body, entering the room to find the ice coffin. He walks up to it, leans down and kisses the handsome, slumbering prince on the lips.

Slowly, Prince Arthur wakes up. As his emerald eyes focus, until he can make out the beautiful young face hovering above him, he smiles and speaks; “Alfred, what the fuck are you doing?”

 

* * *

 

“Uh…” Alfred looks from the Lego figures in his hands, to Arthur, and back again, “Berwald was getting sick of standing on Søren’s Legos, so he gathered them up and gave them to me to look after for a while. I then realised that Søren has made little figures to look like all of us, so I started playing, and now I’m your hero!”

“Why am I the servant?” Jett demands.

“Why are you in my house?” Alfred retaliates.

“You invited us over, remember?” Matthew says, “We were going to have a video game night; you, me, Jett, Ivan.”

“Oh, yeah. Wait- that means-”

“Privet!” Ivan pokes his head around the door.

“Hey, dude, I’m sorry about the whole… making you the bad guy thing…”

“It is not a problem,” Ivan says, smiling, “In a lot of fanfiction of you, I am the bad guy, and in a lot of fanfiction of me, you are the bad guy. We are enemies, Fredka, kismesis, and it brings me no greater pleasure than to oppose you in as many ways as I can. However, I don’t think your ending is looking very good.”

“No? And you’re the expert on fairy tales, are you?”

“Yes. I am well-known for both fairy tales and story theorists. I love fairy tales!” Ivan sits opposite Alfred, at the other side of the Lego castle, “I don’t think the Kapitan should be dead.”

“You’re only saying that because it's you!”

“You only killed the Kapitan because it’s me. I think that the Kapitan should live, and that the Prince and his friend, not his servant, were merely visiting, but a horrid storm caused them to get snowed in, and they couldn’t get a message back home. The Prince was not trapped, but sleeping, no! hibernating, because he’s not used to the cold, and his friend was doing simple chores around the castle because he was bored without his animal friends.

“As the storm subsides, the Kapitan invites everyone to his home for a big, fun ball. Gilbert comes, and he has both Elizabeta and her husband Roderich with him, and they’re all dating each other and they’re happy like that, and Berwald and Batukhan and Søren come too, and they apologise to the Kapitan for picking on him when they were children- how did you actually know about that?”

Alfred grins, “Gilbert and Søren told me.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Ivan growls, before brightening up; “But anyway, he forgives them, so long as they promise not to talk the boob thing anymore- did they tell you about that as well?”

“Yeah, but I actually thought they were lying, oh my God, dude!” Alfred laughs, and both Matthew and Jett laugh with him.

“They were lying! I never showed them my boobs! Anyway, they’re all friends now, and Feli is at the party too, and when Ludwig wakes up from the Kapitan accidentally hitting him on the head, he instantly recognises Feli, as the knock helped him to regain his memories of being Roman, and Roman and Feli are reunited! Roman does not care that Feli is a boy, as Roman’s love is stronger than genatalia. And as the music begins to play; Søren dances with Berwald, Roman dances with Feli, Gilbert dances with Elizabeta as Roderich conducts the music, Lord Alistair gets drunk, Mister Francis coos over all the pretty couples, Jett and Prince Matvei make plans to visit a zoo at some point before Prince Matvei dances with the Kapitan for a little while, and, of course, Prince Alfred dances with Prince Arthur.”

“That’s actually quite a sweet ending,” Arthur says with a smile, “I personally would have had ‘Mister Francis’ die an awful, painful death, but it’s still lovely.”

Suddenly, Ivan’s hand knocks over all the couples, sweeping them into one orgy-pile, and his signature purple aura begins to writhe around him, “And then all become one with Mother Russia, and they live happily ever after.”

“And that ruined it.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mattie/Matta/Matthaus/Matteo/Matvei; Derision of Matthew  
> Frdka; Russian derision of Alfred  
> The horses are named after car companies from the relevant countries


End file.
